


But it's Jefferson?!

by generalwaffolz



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Drink, F/F, F/M, Hamilton - Freeform, Hamilton drinks away his problems, M/M, Modern, Multi, Musical, Thanks, again sorry, but Jamilton is end game, first fic, idk where this is going, lol, office workers, ok, okay, sorry - Freeform, the
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalwaffolz/pseuds/generalwaffolz
Summary: I'm bad a summaries:Alexander Hamilton just wanted to drink away his regrets, mistakes, basically his life. Somehow he ends up being carried by Thomas Jefferson, his enemy (?), ~bridal style~ throughout the streets of NYC. Everything from that point changes, slightly, confusion and Jamilton ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic and I never thought it would be related to the founding fathers... haha ok
> 
> I'm bad at writing so to improve I'm writing JAMILTON duh 
> 
> Thanks for reading it  
> Sorry for reading it ;)

Hamilton stared down at the empty glass laying in front of him on the wooden bar table. How many had he even had? He couldn’t remember at this point. All he remembers is that he wants to forget. The sweet toxic drink should dull the pain, yet he couldn’t seem to forget. So he proceeded to drink more and more and enjoyed the burn as the liquid trailed down his throat. 

He could no longer see straight. The room was tilting and people were blurry.  
He tried to stand up but could not get a grip on his landing and fell to the floor. 

Why was he even here in the first place? Clearly he had achieved his goal of drinking to forget. 

After what seemed like days, the bar tender, sick of Hamilton’s over indulgence and actions, finally informed the immigrant that he had had too many drinks and that the bar closed 30 minutes ago.

Alexander didn't even care what the bartender had to say and he just exited the building and walked onto the cold New York City streets. It was raining.  
Normally Alexander would be panicky but he’s drunk himself into oblivion. 

Damn it was cold. Being raised in the Caribbean, the cold was not something Alexander was used to or fond of. Yet, he was too drunk to care.  
He stumbled down the street not sure as to where he was going. He kept walking and walking until he tripped over himself in his drunk clumsiness. 

——————————————————————-

Jefferson had had a long day of work. Hamilton didn’t show up (he hadn’t all week), which made sense considering the fact that the man had just ruined his own life completely.  
Because of this, Washington assigned him double duty, meaning along with his work, he had to cover for Hamilton as well.  
Jefferson absolutely despised Hamilton. A short, loud mouthed, arrogant, immigrant who thinks he owns the place. And somehow he seems to win the company’s president, George Washington’s, affection?

He did feel a bit of sympathy for the man though. He read the newspaper. Everybody did.  
Yet Jefferson couldn’t process it.  
How could a man as smart as Hamilton do something so careless?  
Yes, he had an affair, which was typical of men who were basically married to their jobs, but to reach out to the New York Times, asking for a slot on the front page so he could publish an article giving details about how he cheated on his wife while she was away with the kids for months is just plain idiotic. 

Word around the office is that Hamilton has now basically been bar hopping.  
Many of Jefferson’s coworkers had bumped into Hamilton on the streets at night, drunk beyond imagination. So many have tried to reach out to him, but he’s ignored everyone.  
Washington let him take leave for as long as he would like.  
Generally everyone is worried the man is going to drink himself to death.

Jefferson understood that Hamilton had a reason to drinking. Clearly the man wanted to forget.  
He wanted to forget what happened and cure his reality with alcohol. Jefferson had suffered through the same thing when his wife passed a couple years ago.

Eliza found out about the affair through the newspaper. This poor, sweet woman. She was always so kind and did not deserve this heartbreak.  
The fact that Hamilton could do something to such a woman angered Jefferson. 

But Hamilton clearly wasn’t satisfied with perfection.

He didn’t want a perfect home life, or a perfect wife. He didn’t need it. He hated it.  
He wanted everything to be just as chaotic as his work life.  
He needed something new every day.  
Eliza just wasn’t right for him, so he sought satisfaction from Miss Maria Reynolds. 

It still gave Hamilton no right to do what he had done. And better yet, to go publish it in one of the most read newspapers in the world was just damning. 

Once the news reached the other Schulyer sisters, Angelica showed up to the Hamilton’s house, picked up Eliza and then Philip, Eliza and Alexander’s son. 

She then proceeded to scream and yell at Hamilton about how stupid he was to do this and basically congratulated him on his massive failure in life, she promised he would never see Eliza or his son again.  
Angelica works at the same office as Hamilton and Jefferson and constantly reminds Hamilton of his mistakes.

The loss of his son must have destroyed Hamilton.  
Jefferson would see him bring his son to work every so often, the way Hamilton would smile and behave around his son was a side of Hamilton he had never seen before. Dare he say it, he liked that side, he didn’t want to verbally abuse that version of Hamilton.

He had been thinking of Hamilton all day now and needed to cut it out.  
Yet the company meetings were boring without him.  
He missed arguing with his quick witted foe.  
He missed bumping into him in the break room, only to argue some more.  
He missed watching him throw his long sloppy black hair into a pony-tail when shit got serious.

He missed glancing across the room to glare at Hamilton.  
Oh god, it was hard not to lose yourself in his eyes.  
Alexander had deep, brown colored eyes with huge pupils.  
He would dart them back and forth as he prepared his next comeback and would pierce through Jefferson’s glare with one of his own.

Hamilton was just so distracting sometimes.

Focus. 

Jefferson decided he had done enough work for the day considering it was midnight. He worked late because he saw no point in coming home early to an empty house.  
Sighing, he gathered his papers, stuffed them in his satchel (which Hamilton ridiculed constantly), and left his office.  
He hopped on the elevator and waited as it descended from the top floor to the bottom.  
He waved at Lafayette, the secretary, as he exited. 

“Have a good night, mon ami!” Lafayette called after him. 

Jefferson was bored.  
It was a Friday night.  
Madison, his closest friend, was out of town.  
He decided to head to a bar.


	2. Chapter 2

Jefferson had been walking in the freezing cold for 15 minutes. To top off the brutal winter that hit NYC, it was also storming. Great.   
He forgot to get an umbrella on his way to work today. 

He would’ve taken a taxi but sitting all day in his office made him want to walk around.   
He loved New York City in the winter.   
Despite being raised on the warm, huge Monticello complex, the city life suited him. There was something new everyday. 

The pavement had puddles littered across it, which the lights of the city were reflected in.   
Cars were honking in the distance.   
Store signs of neon lit the way.

He almost made it to the bar when he noticed a huge lump on the concrete, moving.   
What the heck? It’s probably just a drunk, homeless man.  
But the lump began to groan and was moving around. Thomas, raised with the ideals of a Southern gentleman, approached the figure to see if he required assistance.

He crouched down to get a better look at the figure who was concealed in the dark of the night.   
He turned the man towards him and was shocked at the site. 

No other than Alexander Hamilton glanced up at Jefferson.   
Alexander’s face was bloodied from his multiple falls. His hands had scratches. He didn’t have a jacket on and was literally shaking from the cold and rain. 

Hamilton just stared up. Who was even holding him? Why was he on the ground in the first place? Damn it was cold. 

Hamilton shifted away from the man above him defensively. There was a slight sound of thunder in the distance. Hamilton jumped slightly. 

“Whaddya wan-want.?” Hamilton muttered shaking and in a drunken manner. 

“Hamilton, what the actual fuck?!” Thomas nearly kicked the man for being so careless about his own health. 

It finally struck Hamilton who was bent over him. His vision was clouded but he could make out the basic image.   
He saw a crouched man in a casual work suit. He had beautiful hair. It was poofy, but tight with kinks. Filled with black curls. He had dark skin. Smooth, great bronze skin. The man stared at Hamilton angrily. He had dark brown eyes. They were so beautiful. And his lips were so full. They were perfect for the man’s facial features. They were plump and so, so kissable? 

Hamilton contorted his face in focus.   
That voice, the drawl in his accent.   
Fuck.  
Was it Jefferson? Damn it Jefferson. Of course! His work rival. The man who thinks he’s so much better than Alexander. Great. He gets to see Hamilton like this. Fuck this shit. And even worse, Drunk Alex thought Thomas was incredibly attractive. He blamed it on his drunken state, of course. 

Who the fuck did he think he was anyways? He thinks he can put on some fake ass facade of being a genuinely nice human being and expects Hamilton to believe it? Yeah right. 

This is the man who opposes Hamilton on everything. The man who he’s despised from the beginning. The man who although is arrogant and insufferable, is obnoxiously attractive. 

Hamilton didn’t need his help, he was just fine without the asshat’s assistance. Hamilton didn’t care that he was drunk.   
He tried to stand up but fell down again on the cold concrete with a thud. 

“Argh”

Jefferson wanted nothing to do with Hamilton. He pissed him off and degraded everything he did at work and now Thomas was expected to help the little shit?

But, if he got Hamilton back to his original state and back to work, he wouldn’t have to work double duty which was nearly killing him and his social life. 

Jefferson grunted and grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders and hoisted him up.   
Hamilton twisted weakly under Jefferson’s grip, only causing Jefferson to hold him tighter. 

Under the streetlight Jefferson saw just how awful and pathetic Hamilton looked.

He had bags under his eyes. His face was sunken in. He had clearly lost weight and had not been getting any sleep. His black hair was swept across his face. He had blood on his forehead and he seemed as if he hadn’t showered in a week. He was shaking. He looked so vulnerable. All Jefferson wanted to do was to just hold Hamilton and make everything better for him. He wanted to care for Hamilton, make the bad in the world go away.

What the fuck? This is Hamilton we’re talking about.   
Shit.

“What the fuck.. the fuck.. are y-you lookin’ at, Jefferso-Jeffershit.” Hamilton spit out, chuckling at the little nickname he created for Thomas. 

Jefferson realized how cold Hamilton must be. It was winter in New York fucking City. It was freezing.   
He ignored the comment made by Hamilton and decided to skip the bar. If Hamilton caught hypothermia there was no way he would be coming into work for weeks, and there was no way Jefferson would continue covering for Hamilton that long.

It would periodically thunder and rain would come down in slight bursts. Jefferson noticed that each time this occurred, Hamilton would shudder violently. 

He took of his jacket and wrapped it around Hamilton, assuming his shaking was all due to the cold. Jefferson shuddered at the sudden exposure to the cold but nevertheless he sighed and then picked up Hamilton bridal style and made his way to his apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha sorry this is bad ik ok OK I JUST WANT TO WRITE OUT MY FRUSTRATIONS INTO A JAMILTON FANFIC


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah idk I think it's pretty obvious but the POV of jeffershit and ham switches a lot 
> 
> ALSO YALL IDK HOW PEOPLE ACTUALLY ACT WHEN THEYRE AS DRUNK AS HAMILTON SO LIKE JUST ROLL WITH IT

Jefferson walked down the NYC streets while receiving many inquisitive looks from strangers. He needed to get to his apartment quickly. Not only was Hamilton already freezing, but Jefferson was now exposed to the cold and it was not ideal. 

The fastest way was passing through Times Square, and then grabbing a subway. Thomas groaned. He hated walking through all the tourists. Even though it was the middle of the night, and in the freezing cold, tourists seemed to love being in Times Square right then and there. He couldn’t get a break.

He weaved through the crowds with Hamilton tightly held in his arms.

Hamilton was staring at Jefferson. The man was drunk, a little less than before, but still drunk.  
The flashing lights created a halo around Jefferson. The man was ethereal. Hamilton desperately wanted and needed to touch Jefferson’s hair. Rain drops hung off his perfectly coiled hair. He wanted to touch Jefferson. Hamilton had wanted to touch Jefferson’s hair since he walked into the company building. Every single debate and argument he considers just ripping out Jefferson’s hair. H  
e imagines running his hands through it, feeling his fingers tangle in the cur-go home Hamilton, you’re drunk.   
He thought to himself.  
Yet, he wished he wasn’t drunk so he could fully appreciate the moment. Jefferson looked so focused ahead. His eyebrows tight in concentration.   
Hamilton enveloped himself more in Jefferson’s warmth. 

Jefferson was crossing a street when he felt Hamilton’s squirming and looked down to see Hamilton staring at him. The men locked eyes. Jefferson stood there having made it even half way to cross the street.   
Neither party dared to break the steady eye contact between them. 

HONK  
Jefferson looked up and realized the light had turned back to the red hand and it was no longer his right to cross. He, still with Hamilton, bridal style, in his arms, went back to the light. 

“Dammit Hamilton” he muttered, now they had to stand in the cold and wait for the dumb traffic light because Hamilton distracted Jefferson with his stupid big shit brown eyes. 

They waited. 

Hamilton hated Jefferson. Right? At least he should. The dumb fuck had been messing up his whole career with constant set backs and revisions to all his plans for the company.   
Yet, now he felt differently. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the mid life crisis. He looked at Jefferson in a new light, literally. He knew that in the morning things would go back to how they were. He knew that he wouldn’t remember half of what was said due to his drunken state. He knew that Jefferson was his “enemy”. He knew they could never be more, be friends. He knew his own damn mind began to ramble, all because of Thomas. A distraction. Annoying, insufferable, twisted, stuck-up, arrogant, dumb, pri—

“Beautiful” Hamilton whispered loudly enough for Jefferson to hear him, before his mind could process what his heart had just said.   
They stood there. Waiting at the crosswalk. A well built man shivering in his work clothes, carrying a smaller, disheveled man, bundled in a coat two sizes too big. It was quite a sight. Not to mention how Hamilton, who had lost his will to care, constantly kept touching Jefferson’s soaked hair. 

Jefferson had a hard time processing. How does a man respond to his nemesis calling him beautiful? A blush was creeping up Jefferson’s face. His heart skipped a beat. 

“You’re blushing!” Hamilton chuckled.   
The light finally turned to walk and he quickly sprinted to the subway station.

As he descended the subway steps, the man in his arms began to shake with giggles. 

Jefferson put Hamilton down 

Jefferson had learned two things. One: he and Hamilton were going to have a weird relationship after tonight and Two: Hamilton became a slightly more tolerable NEVER BEFORE SEEN Hamilton when he was drunk.

They made it to their subway train and found two seats. Their train was basically empty. They both sighed in relief at the heat that filled the station. He glanced and saw Hamilton snuggling in his jacket. They made eye contact and Jefferson quickly turned away. Jefferson worked on the Lower East side of Manhattan, yet he lived on the Upper East side so he was used to making the commute. 

Halfway through the ride Jefferson felt something rest upon him. He looked down and saw it was Hamilton. Hamilton grabbed Jefferson by the waist and pulled him closer, resting his head on his shoulder. Basically Alexander Hamilton was cuddling Thomas Jefferson on a subway train.   
Thomas was flustered. Was he supposed to move him? He just remained there allowing Hamilton to cling to him.  
He smirked. He had never realized Hamilton was much of a cuddle-er. He assumed he just did it to regain warmth. 

They exited and Jefferson continued walking with Hamilton once again in his arms. He once again shivered at the re-exposure to the bitter cold, still lending his jacket to Hamilton, but he was fine with it as long as Alexand—Hamilton was okay. Wait did he actually just think that? When did he begin to start caring about Hamilton?  
Jefferson just continued his walk to his apartment. His face was still noticeably red from Hamilton’s past comments and actions. 

When they reached his apartment Thomas let go of Hamilton and glanced down to the shorter man supporting himself on the wall. 

“We’re here finally” Thomas chuckled to Hamilton. 

Thunder boomed from the outside.   
As Thomas was opening the door to his apartment he noticed out of his peripheral vision how Hamilton jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Once inside Jefferson faced a new dilemma, what to do with Hamilton?  
Hopefully the man was finally sobering up but he was still freezing cold, wet, bloody, and sleep deprived.   
Jefferson grabbed Hamilton and led him to his room, as the thunder and rain reached a steady pace outside.

“Where are we going, Jeffershit, what are we doing?” Hamilton inquired. 

“You’re sick and cold so I’m gonna clean you up, warm you up, and then you’re gonna rest up” Jefferson replied simply. 

“Hm. Nothing in between?” Alexander winked provocatively.

Jefferson let go of Hamilton immediately.   
“Uh.. hm, okay.. this is my bedroom, I’ll come back with dry clothes for you.” Jefferson stuttered as he began to go red again from Hamilton’s question.

Hamilton chuckled and looked around, as Jefferson left the room.   
The room was carpeted. Around it there were many picture frames featuring some Hamilton recognized, and some he didn’t. He noticed a woman kept appearing in many of them, this caused him to feel a slight knot inside him form. He shook his thoughts as his eyes focused on the bed.   
It was a queen sized bed with ~of course~ magenta colored sheets.   
He chuckled at the site.

He was still cold.   
He began to remove his garments, he didn’t care who or who wasn’t present. He pulled off Jefferson’s jacket and placed it on the bed neatly. It was a really warm jacket, makes sense considering Jefferson was rich as fuck.   
Then he began to take of his own clothes.   
He took of his cold and wet shirt and tossed it carelessly to the ground, watching the water being soaked up by the dry carpet.   
He then shook of his skinny pants and side stepped out of them.   
Hamilton was left shirtless wearing only boxers to protect his modesty. 

Jefferson walked in and was struck frozen by the site.   
Yes, he had seen shirtless men before, but something about Alexander— no Hamilton, was so enticing.   
His long hair surrounded his frame perfectly, his face still had scratches and he still seemed tired and malnourished, but it was appealing in a twisted way.   
Hamilton was average height, but when compared to Jefferson he was small. He was fit, clearly he had to work out occasionally. No, the man was not ripped, but he was toned. He was perfect.   
How long had Jefferson worked with this man and not seen him like this? Too long. Oh god, he just wanted to-

“What are you looking at?” Hamilton inquired, his face heating up slightly. Jefferson was pretty sure this was the second time this night he had been asked that. 

Hamilton walked towards Jefferson, and was alarmingly close.   
“Y..You?” Jefferson spit out shocked by the sudden close contact.   
Hamilton grabbed Jefferson towards him by the waist and stared up at him, in a confusingly loving manner. 

“You’re my prince charming, Thomas! You saw me on the ground and swooped me up in your strong arms and saved me! My hero!” Hamilton batted his eyes sarcastically, his mood suddenly turning bitter. 

Then he pulled even harder on Jefferson’s waist pulling him even closer.  
“So now what? You think I owe you something fucker?”   
Jefferson could smell the alcohol in Hamilton’s breath. 

Jefferson was stuck. He just looked down at the man who held him at the waist, unsure of how to respond. His face was heating up. He could feel the heat rise in his ears. Hamilton was so close. The man literally was holding Thomas by the waist, while Thomas’s arms lay dumbly beside him. 

Hamilton just glared up into the dark man’s eyes. 

He was furious. Yeah, sure, he was grateful. Yeah, sure, they had a little “moment” out on the streets. But Hamilton was sobering up, reality was creeping in. It had just hit him how much ammo Jefferson had gained to use against Hamilton. This was going to kill him at work. He was so pissed, so angry. He just kept staring at Thomas. Stupid, stupid Thomas. The man who picked him up off the streets, offered him his jacket, fucking carried him across Manhattan, and now invited him into his fucking house.   
Hamilton pulled Jefferson down towards him. His breath now hot on Jefferson’s face. 

Hamilton pushed forward and connected to Jefferson’s lips. 

Hamilton reached to Jefferson’s hair and ran his fingers through it. Jefferson who was so caught off guard, finally responded and placed his once limp arms around Hamilton’s waist and pulled him even closer.   
It was hot, but slow. It was full of passion yet was carried out carefully.   
It seemed to last forever, but when it ended it was not enough. 

Hamilton pushed Jefferson back, wiped his lips, and laughed “Guess I’ve fulfilled my duty as damsel in distress. Gimme the clothes and quit staring at my body, you’re drooling, Jefferson.” 

Thomas glared at Hamilton in confusion, and threw the clothes at him. He then turned around so Hamilton could change with privacy. 

What the actual fuck was that? Was Hamilton fucking bipolar? Was he body swapped? Jefferson went from one second being ready to be pummeled by Alexander Hamilton to the next of being kissed by Alexander Hamilton. 

Hamilton gladly caught the clothes from Jefferson and threw them on. He appreciated the warmth that filled him. He dully noted how ill fitting the clothing were on him. They were huge. The sweat pants were baggy and hanging dangerously low and his tee shirt was hanging off his shoulders and like the sweat pants had a baggy appearance.   
Satisfied, he jumped onto Jefferson’s bed.   
Thomas turned around and stared at Hamilton sitting at the edge of Jefferson’s bed.

He’s fucking adorable. I want him to kiss me again.  
What?! No, he did not just think that about his younger co-worker. They hated each other! There was nothing adorable about that. This is the man that he has had to compete with since before they even had to battle face to face for the top at Columbia University, and now he had to fight and see him every day of work.   
They argued till either Washington got tired of it or they were physically separated. 

Where was this fire?   
Where were the insults?   
When were the capable of being in the same room?

Oh yeah, ever since Hamilton’s wife and kid left him and he’d been getting dangerously drunk every night. 

Jefferson assumed that Hamilton would be taking his room for the night so he decided to head to the couch and sleep there for the night. 

“Alright, well night, Hamilton” Jefferson said over his shoulder as he made to head to his makeshift bedroom for the night. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” Hamilton inquired, looking up from the bed. 

“The couch.”

“Why?”

“There’s no way in fuck I’m going to sleep in the same bed as you.” Jefferson sneered. 

The thunder began to become increasingly louder, and as this happened, Hamilton became increasingly more shaky. 

“S..Stay?” He pouted to Jefferson with pleading eyes. Hamilton was not gonna suffer another sleepless night due to the storms and loneliness. He needed Thomas, damnit, just for tonight. Just a warm body, a soul, to be here. He had no one. His thoughts slapped him out of his drunken confusion, he had enough time to sober up significantly. 

“Are you kidding, why? Isn’t this a little bit odd to you? Like, we hate each other ya know. I still don’t get why the fuck you kissed me! You’re drunk off your ass, Hamilton. You’re a dick and an asshole all the time at work and you want me to sleep with you.”

“You’re right about those things, in the fact that we argue. Although contrary to popular belief, I don’t hate you, Jefferson. I appreciate you, despite how I treat you. I do hate some aspects of you, though, for instance, you’re a flamboyant, arrogant, and pretentious prick who has the most skewed views and policies of anyone on this planet. Yet here I am about to be quite honest with you, Jefferson, because my self pride and reputation has already been so wrecked I don’t even mind disclosing even more ego damaging information to you in order to convince you to sleep with me.” Hamilton cooly responded.

Jefferson just stared dumbly at Hamilton, the man sobered up so quickly Jefferson had whip-lash. 

Thunder clapped once more and Hamilton began to speak more urgently. 

“I understand how pathetic this may seem to you. An intelligent man, almost in his thirties, begging you, you, of all people to come sleep the night with me. You know, most people would be on their knees for me with one word? You know that right? The rumors around the office are true. They do call be tomcat for a reason.” He continued bitterly, “No wonder my wife left me. Y’know I never actually loved her? I mean yes, I loved her. I was just never attracted or passionate about it. I love what our ‘love’ created, a beautiful son. I loved the idea of our relationship and dreams but it never satisfied me. I wanted more, and the only way to satisfy it was through others. Eliza was too good for me, and I broke her fucking heart. I still am not satisfied, I don’t think I’ll ever be, at least that’s what Angelica screamed at me when she slammed the door.” He suddenly had a realization, “I’m a whore just like my mother was!” he spat.   
He caught himself babbling and went to get back on point, “Ah, fuck, there goes Alexander Hamilton once again rambling his ass off. Look Jefferson, I’m afraid of the fucking ‘boom booms’ aka, thunder, outside because they remind me of the dumb ass hurricane that destroyed my town when I was younger. I know it’s stupid and you could care less but I can’t sleep, I can’t control my mental state. All I can think about is the piles of dead bodies, the damaged town, the drowned animals and children. Oh, the best part, staring at your dead best friend. Sorry, I’m talking too much. As much as I’d love to sleep with you on a more intimate basis, you are right, we are foes, but you’re here, and I’m cold, tired, and scared. Basically, it makes me anxious and scared and you are a very reassuring person believe it or not. So would you just get in bed?” Hamilton pat the side of the bed urging Jefferson. 

Jefferson grunted.   
This man literally just gave him so much shit he could use against him. Yet deep down Thomas knew he would never blackmail Hamilton with this. Yet what Hamilton revealed to him hit him hard. He didn’t know Hamilton had to deal with this shit. He had always assumed Hamilton had everything easy and that he and Washington were like ‘father and son’, but apparently Alexander truly had to write his way out to the top.   
And wait, a hurricane destroyed his town, what? His mother was a whore? The man trusted him with this information. Hamilton was already so pathetic that Jefferson couldn’t resist.   
He walked over to where Hamilton was sitting and grimaced, “I’ll sleep here tonight, whatever, it’s better than sleeping on that god awful couch.” he reasoned aloud. 

“Oh shut up, you’re just excited you get to sleep next to me.” Hamilton retorted. 

The men crawled under the covers and both migrated to the opposite sides of the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter

Hamilton sat up.   
“Jefferson you didn’t turn off the fucking lights”

“Ugh, it’s fine, it’s like 2 am just go back to sleep.”  
“How the fuck can I sleep when there’s a light on?” 

“Close your damn eyes!”

“Jefferson”“Jefferson”  
“Jefferson”Hamilton repeated this in a monotone voice while simultaneously kicking Jefferson as if it was an encouraging action to get him to turn off the lights. 

Jefferson finally sat up sighing in an overly dramatic manner.   
“Oh well fuck me” He groaned as he got up to go turn off the light. 

“Maybe one day!” Hamilton winked. 

Jefferson returned under the covers just as another sound of thunder from the outside entered the room. At this Hamilton shook in the bed. The two men remained at opposite sides and Thomas could feel the bed moving.

“Hamilton please stop shaking”

He didn’t get a response. Yet the shaking continued. 

“Hamilton cut it out” He urged.

After about 5 minutes Jefferson got sick of it and reached over to the other side and pulled Hamilton to face him. 

“Listen up bitch, yo-“

Jefferson saw tears streaking down Hamilton’s face, who had his eyes shut tightly and he seemed to be whispering something over and over again.   
“Hamilton what the fuck?” 

“S..Sorry, like I said I’m fucking pathetic.” He sighed ruefully, opening his eyes to the darkness slightly. “I had Eliza, or even Phillip to help me through these nights. Now I’m alone, Thomas. I’m utterly alone and I deserve it. I have to suffer thr..through this.” he sobbed quietly, shoving his face into his pillow.

Jefferson had never seen a man change his moods as many times as Hamilton. He had also never actually seen Hamilton cry. He took so great pity on this man. He just wanted to make his heart full. He didn’t want him to feel alone. He wanted him to be okay. He wanted to be the bandage on this man’s open wound. He wanted to provide Hamilton with a feeling of fullness and contempt. Damnit there he goes again.

Jefferson wrapped his arms around Hamilton’s waist and pulled him towards him. They met in the middle. Hamilton back against Jefferson’s chest and Jefferson’s arms enveloping Hamilton. Hamilton nuzzled into Jefferson and welcomed the contact between the two. Hamilton’s shaking ceased. 

“Darling, you're not alone m’kay? I’m here. I’m right here. You don’t deserve this, you deserve to be happy okay? Just stay with me and let’s sleep.” Jefferson whispered kindly down into Hamilton’s ear. “And then in the morning you’re taking a fucking shower because you’re still bloody and smell like alcohol.”

Jefferson felt the smaller man chuckle against his body. It was a nice feeling. He pulled Hamilton closer, running his fingers through the immigrant’s silky black hair. Hamilton hummed back happily in response. He forgot about who they were to each other outside of this room. All that mattered was here and now, tomorrow was another day. Eventually, the two fell asleep. The cold storm raged on outside, yet in this room it was quiet. It was as if they had reached the eye of the hurricane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE ENDING OF THIS WAS SO CHEESY IM SO SORRY


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST YALL

Hamilton woke up feeling more relaxed than he had felt in a couple of weeks.   
He had slept so well. 

The light crept in through the slightly open blinds. 

He winced at the bright light.  
Oh fuck, he had a huge ass headache.  
How much did he even drink?  
Wait where the fuck even was he?  
It was dawn, or just after dawn.   
The light now softer crept through the window and flooded the room.  
Hamilton was warm. Snuggly warm.   
He buried himself deeper into this warmness.   
The events of last night then struck him.   
He looked down at the dark arms holding his waist.   
He shifted.   
He tilted his head up slightly.   
He saw curls.   
He saw shut eyes with long eye lashes.   
A mouth open partially, breathing softly.   
He looked back down at the arms wrapped around him.  
Thomas Jefferson’s arms.   
He glanced at the magenta sheets, correction, Thomas Jefferson’s sheets.  
Shit.

Hamilton had always thought Thomas Jefferson was attractive. It was hard not to. Everyone in the office was or had been into him at one point. It proved to be extremely difficult for Hamilton to focus during board meetings because Jefferson would glare at him. Hamilton would glare right back but he would really just be staring at Jefferson. Studying him. Learning him. Okay, not that creepily. Jefferson was just interesting. He was something unexpected. He was the one man Hamilton could engage in debates with till the end of time. No one had the quick mindedness and wit like Hamilton till Jefferson showed up. So naturally, they became enemies.   
Everyday was a bitter battle. Each debate had them spitting toxic insults at each other. At the workplace when the two were in the same room there was great tension. Yes, they were literal enemies.   
I’m literally sleeping with the enemy  
Hamilton didn’t want to get up but he didn’t want Jefferson to be able to hold this over Hamilton’s head as blackmail. 

He internally groaned when he remembered that it was him who asked Thomas to sleep with him. Last night’s events were flooding back to him. 

I fucking kissed Thomas Jefferson.   
I told him my whole life story.   
He knows I’m such a pathetic whore who can’t sleep alone during storms.   
I’m most utterly fucked and can say goodbye to ever passing new reforms to the company. 

Hamilton released himself from Thomas’s grip silently and slowly retreated out of the bedroom.   
He looked down at his garments.   
Ah yes, now I’m wearing his fucking clothes!   
Ha, look at me Alexander Hamilton! Once again I'm whoring around as a way to solve my problems.   
He thought bitterly. 

He stumbled around the apartment till he found the bathroom. He was so nauseous from his hangover and added to that all the regrettable things he did last night. He finally found the bathroom and ran to the toilet, proceeding to vomit.   
Wiping the spit from his lips he stood up. 

He glared at what stood in front of him. 

Disgusting, despicable, obnoxious, loud-mouthed, arrogant, orphan, immigrant, son-of-a whore, pathetic, needy, ass-hat, overweight, dirty, scandalous, shit eating bastard. 

He stared back at himself. 

He lost Eliza. Eliza, the woman who he believed would be his world. She was so perfect. So deserving of everything good in the world. His best friend. She was always there for Alexander. He left her. No, better yet, he destroyed her heart. He didn’t think about what would happen to her. He believed it was best for him. 

Self absorbed bastard. 

Maria Reynolds. He had hurt her too. His article destroyed her reputation more than her being to James Reynolds did. He used Maria as a quick fuck. At first he thought he was helping her, and truly at the beginning he was. Yet, he began to need her, need this escape from the constant continuous home life he had built for himself, so he used her. 

Insufferable asshole. 

The hardest part was losing Philip. The light of his life. In Alexander’s eyes, his boy outshone the morning sun. He was his son. The one thing Alexander created that he was most proud of. The one thing Alexander truly loved and was satisfied with. His beautiful boy. His beautiful boy which he let down. He remembers the look Philip gave him when Angelica grabbed him from the house.   
“Your daddy did a very bad thing” He remembers Angelica saying as she scooped the boy up and left.   
Philip just stared at his dad with a look of betrayal.   
Philip was smart, he figured it out soon enough and when Alexander went to see him a few days ago, Philip said he “didn’t want to see daddy ever again because he hurt mommy”.

Disappointing, unreliable, undeserving, ungrateful, letdown, motherfucking bastard. 

Alexander gripped the sink counter and glared even further at the thing he hated most in the world. Himself. 

Why wasn’t anything enough?   
Why wasn’t Eliza enough?   
Why did everything go bad for Alexander?  
Why was it him messing it up?   
Why didn’t he just die with his mother?   
Why did he live and not her?   
Why didn’t the hurricane kill him?  
Why hadn’t Thomas let him freeze on the sidewalk?   
He couldn’t seem to die. 

He let go of the counter and fell to the ground.   
Sobs racked his whole body. 

Now he remembers why he drank so much.   
His life was a mess, and it was all his fault.   
He didn’t want to go back to work.   
He didn’t want to see Angelica.   
He didn’t want to have Washington call him son and try to reassure him. 

He wanted to forget, forget, forget, forget.   
Leave behind what he had created, this mess of a life. He wanted to start over, but he couldn’t.   
He knew he was wallowing in self pity but he felt it was the only way to feel better. 

Maybe next week he’d go in for work, maybe. 

Regret, forget, remember.   
A vicious cycle that included a lot of self hate and alcohol.   
He was stuck like this.   
Life was not going to get better. 

Weak. You threw away your shot, you threw everything away. Anything good that was given to you, you burned. You set it all ablaze and watched. Yet here you are, wondering where it all went wrong? You are what’s wrong, Alexander, you are. 

 

This voice inside him was persistent, and Alexander couldn’t agree more with it.   
His whole body shook and he sobbed there pathetically on the bathroom floor of Thomas Jefferson.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS

Thomas woke up feeling cold. 

He shifted around in the blankets. Something was missing? He had been so much warmer before.   
He bolted up in sudden realization.   
Alexander.   
He slept with fucking Alexander Hamilton.   
What was he thinking? He should’ve slept on the couch.   
But then he remembered how badly Hamilton had been shaking, and the tears that rolled down his cheeks during the storm.   
It was 7am, there was no work today. Thomas groaned aloud, his sleep schedule was set to waking up early whether there was work or not.   
Sighing, he looked around, had Hamilton just left? Why should Jefferson care? It’s Hamilton, it would be better for him if he had left. Yet a small part of him wished Hamilton stayed.   
He glanced at the bedroom floor and noticed that Hamilton’s wet clothes from last night were still thrown on the floor. Something like relief filled him. 

Suddenly he heard a sound- a sob?   
Thomas slowly swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up. He pulled on sweatpants and then followed this sound. 

He was near his bathroom when he heard muffled breaths. The door was slightly cracked. 

Tentatively he pushed open the door. 

“Uh, Hamilton? Are you the one making weird ass noises?”   
He stuck his head in and was taken aback by what he saw. 

Alexander Hamilton was on his knees with his face held in his hands. Sobbing. The clothes Thomas gave him was literally swallowing him up.   
The immigrant looked so small, so vulnerable, so alone. He didn’t look like the man Thomas had come to despise at work. He looked human. 

“Ham-Alexander… are you okay?” Thomas shuffled into the bathroom and squatted down to be with Hamilton on the floor. 

Alexander sat there shaking. He was too immersed in his own thoughts to acknowledge Thomas. He sat on the floor and played with the fuzzy rug in front of the sink, breathing heavily with tears running down his face. 

Thomas had no idea what to do. Once again, Alexander Hamilton had left him without a clue of what to do next. First, why was Hamilton crying?   
Then Thomas remembered what Hamilton had said to him last night. How Alexander called himself a whore and pathetic and continued with self-deprecating comments in order to convince Jefferson to stay with him.   
Also, Alexander was drinking last night. Thomas remembered picking him off the ground and literally feeling the alcohol burn his nostrils. He was drinking for a reason, Thomas realized. 

His whole life was falling apart, everything he had built and gained suddenly came crashing down. Jefferson began to feel a great amount of sympathy for his work rival. The man hardly ate and rarely slept as it was, he wondered if this was the first-time Alexander had gotten any sleep in weeks. 

So there they were. A tall dark man crouched down looking concernedly at the smaller man, wearing clothes that was obviously too big for him, visibly shaking with sobs, on a tiled bathroom floor, with a light blue rug, in an apartment, in New York City. 

Thomas could understand that Hamilton was feeling an immense amount of guilt, considering that fact that it was him who set off the events that had led to his current state.   
Hamilton was the one who decided Eliza wasn’t enough. Hamilton was the one who decided to cheat on Eliza with Maria Reynolds, disregarding the family he had created. Hamilton was the one who had published the article, destroying everything he had with Eliza, including having his son, Philip. 

It suddenly hit Thomas that Alexander knew this as well, that’s why he drank so much, he drank to forget all his mistakes. That wouldn’t slide with Thomas. He was going to get Hamilton back on his feet. His heart couldn’t handle seeing Alexander this way. It was only pity though, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. 

Thomas had just learned a lot about Alexander during one night, more than he learned in four years of working and arguing with him. He didn’t know about his troubled past, or all that he had lost. 

Suddenly, Thomas reached forward and hugged Hamilton.   
Why? He couldn’t say. Only that a surge of emotions ran through him.

He felt Hamilton freeze beneath him and hold his breath. 

“What…what are you doing?” He hissed. 

Thomas ignored his question and pulled him in closer. 

Alexander shoved Thomas off him. Thomas fell back onto the carpet and stared up as Alexander stood up and began to recompose himself. Thomas continued to stare dumbly. 

“Listen”, Alexander began with a tone of disgust, “Jefferson, I understand that because you are such a low life and intolerable person that you would use my defeated state against me in all future arguments we have regarding policy of our company. Much to your own advantage, last night you gained a great multitude of information regarding me and my personal life that I don’t doubt you would use against me. I also understand that this façade of yours, of caring about me, is just another tactic you are using to get to me and to learn more information to use against me.” He paused and took a ragged breath. “Well congratulations.” His voice cracked in the middle. “Now you know I’m the weak, whore’s son, bastard that everyone says I am.” He chuckled ruefully. “So now what? Huh?” He paused, and put his hands behind his neck and turned away from Jefferson.   
“How am I going to go back to work? How am I supposed to show my face there again? How am I supposed to look at you again knowing you know what you know?” He just stared at Jefferson blankly as if he was talking to himself this whole time. 

Jefferson slowly rose to his feet. He walked towards Hamilton in two strides, it was a bathroom after all. Hamilton had his back pushed against the wall and glared up at the taller man. 

“Hamilton. Put your reputation aside for once in your damn life. That would’ve saved you a lot of trouble wouldn’t it have?” Hamilton cringed, Thomas continued. “Huh? Believe it or not, not everyone is out there to get you. The fact that you would think that I would swoop to such a low level and reveal very damaging information that you revealed to me in private is quite ridiculous. Hamilton, if I wanted to I could’ve left you out in the cold to freeze, but I do care about you, you’re the bitch that keeps me on my toes at work and pushes me to do better.” 

Hamilton glanced at Jefferson and then looked away, sighing, “I wish you had left me in the cold, maybe I would’ve died.” He laughed at the end of the statement like it was the best joke ever. 

Thomas saw Alexander’s eyes begin to fill with tears again. 

“Listen, to me.” He grabbed Alexander’s chin and force him to look at him. “Yes, you have royally fucked up. Yes, things are hard. But, Alexander, you will get passed this. I know you can. I hate to admit it but you’re the smartest guy we’ve got, aside from me of course (haha). In the face of crisis you have always performed well. Heck, remember when our company was facing bankruptcy and you pulled the best damn financial plan out of your ass? Yeah that’s right, I said it. You did something that even I, Thomas Jefferson, couldn’t disagree with. You’re a very intelligent and valuable man, Hamilton. Quit telling yourself otherwise, or else you’re going to continue going down on this detrimental path and will continually hurt yourself along the way. Look, the office needs you, Washington needs you, heck, even I need you. Most importantly your family needs you. Philip needs you, you need to apologize and make things right again. You need to get back on your feet, Hamilton.” 

Alexander felt the stream of tears running down his cheeks. When did he begin to see Jefferson, no Thomas, as comforting? When did this change? Thomas’s comments had woken him up. He needs to get better, fix the mess he’s made. Thomas helped him realize this. Thomas picked him up off the street. Thomas fucking Jefferson. The best thing that happened to him after the whole article publication was Thomas Jefferson. Oh, the irony. 

“Are you listening?” Hamilton snapped and stared back up into Thomas’s eyes. His dark, brown, deep, ent- “Hamilton!” 

“You are going to get back on your feet. You are going to go back to work. You are going to make things up with your family, though it won’t be the same. You are going to apologize to Maria. You are going to be there in Philip’s life. Everything is going to be okay, and I’m going to help you get back on track because board meetings have been boring without you and I am sick of working double duty and covering for your ass, darling” Thomas finished and looked down. 

Hamilton was still staring at Thomas, his face had gone a little bright pink at the use of a pet name. Thomas Jefferson was going to help him? His rival? No, no they were not rivals, Hamilton continued to remind himself. This man had literally been so kind to him, even after those years of bitter arguments. 

Alexander surged forward and grabbed Thomas in a hug. He wrapped his arms around Thomas’s waist and buried his head in his chest.   
Thomas was ONCE AGAIN taken by surprise and had his arms held up, he looked down at Hamilton, well the back of Hamilton, who was, hugging him. 

A smile broke out onto his face and he wrapped one arm around the small of Alexander’s back and put the other in the immigrant’s silky hair. 

“Thank you, Thomas, I..I don’t know how to thank you for everything and simultaneously apologize” Hamilton said onto Jefferson’s chest. 

Thomas continued smiling and running his fingers through Alexander’s hair. 

“Well, first you could take a fucking shower because you still smell like shit.”

And with that there moment was over, and Alexander was pushing Thomas out of the bathroom so he could take his damn shower. 

Alexander felt relief. A strange feeling, he hadn’t felt in forever. His restlessness eased slightly. He undressed and pulled the glass shower door back and stepped in. He pushed the handle up and took possibly the longest shower known to mankind—he was thinking a lot, okay. 

He hummed happily and smiled to himself as the water ran down his body.   
He wasn’t alone. He had Thomas. Thomas said he believed in him, so he wasn’t as useless as he thought.   
He was going to see Philip again.   
He was going to make peace with Eliza and Maria.   
He was going to ensure Angelica didn’t murder him.   
He was going to go back to work.   
He was going to get back on track. 

He was going to turn things around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok thanks for reading. sorry it took so long!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! sorry i've been gone for so long lmao.   
> wiLL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN!!!!!!!!!  
> hopefully. 
> 
> here's a longer chapter to compensate. 
> 
> **MENTIONS OF SELF HARM****

Hamilton stepped out of the shower feeling better than he had ever felt in the past couple of weeks. He probably smelled like Jefferson’s ridiculously expensive shampoo, though, oddly the thought didn’t bother him. 

After drying off and changing into a new set of clothes Jefferson brought him, which was still way too big and baggy, he stepped out of the bathroom. A smell hit his nose as his feet padded against the hardwood floors. He followed the smell and there he found Jefferson in the kitchen cooking eggs and bacon. 

Jefferson was humming and flipping pieces of bacon on the stove and didn’t notice Hamilton’s presence. Hamilton smirked at Jefferson’s cheerful attitude so early in the morning. 

Thomas turned around and almost dropped the pan he was holding with now crispy bacon because he was shocked by Hamilton’s sudden appearance. 

“Morning” Hamilton smirked casually.   
“Good morning, Alexander.” Thomas nodded as he plated the eggs and bacon. 

Alexander? ALexAnDEr? (meme)   
When did Jefferson begin to regard him as Alexander?  
He would never admit it if you asked but he liked it. 

Jefferson gestured towards the kitchen table and Hamilton, still standing, followed.   
He slid Alex his plate of eggs and bacon and went to go grab utensils. 

“Ya want anything to drink?” Thomas called out. 

“Uhm, orange juice?” 

Thomas nodded and once he brought back the utensils went to get orange juice out of the fridge. As he poured the drinks he caught Hamilton staring at him intensely. 

“uh I..” Hamilton stuttered. 

Jefferson chuckled, “I was thinking of how we were going to get you back on your feet, and I think maybe we should start with going to your house?”

Hamilton flinched and looked up. 

“Uh.. uh no maybe we shouldn’t? I, ha, I haven’t had time to clean it or anything and I mea-“, Hamilton stuttered as the idea of going back to the house he once lived in with his family sent panic rising through his chest. 

“Hush. We are going, the whole point is to clean it anyways. I’m not having you stay here the rest of your life. Once your house is back to normal, because trust me I know it probably hasn’t been cleaned in ages, you’ll be able to get most things back on track, such as going to work.” Thomas said.

Ouch. I’ve only been here one night and he already wants me out, Alexander thought, although he knew Thomas just wanted him back on his feet as soon as possible, or--

Maybe he wants you to get back up again so he can knock you down without feeling bad.   
Maybe he is just tired of dealing with your needy ass. 

Alexander finished his breakfast and stood up, “I guess you’re right, I don’t want to bother you more than I already am, I need to get my shit together so we don’t have to spend more time than we already have been together.” He stalked off to the bedroom. 

Thomas stood there stunned. Was Alexander mad? Did he say something? Oh, of course, he mentioned cleaning up the house. Was that too soon or something? Didn’t Hamilton want to get back on his feet? 

He thought that Hamilton would be glad he could get away from him. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Alexander went back to the bedroom and searched for his phone. After a lot of blanket throwing he found it. It was blown up with notifications from his concerned friends. 

Laf: Mon ami, where are you? Please tell me you aren’t out drinking again! 

*Delete*

Turtle John: Alex! Bud comon. I’ve heard from so many people at the office that u’re still out drinking!!!! Lexi, we talked about this. Come 2 me when you want to drink, plz, I don’t want u to hurt urself. We all miss u and want u 2 be happy. Love ya 

*Delete*

NeedsNoIntro: ALEXANDER HAMILTON YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING AROUND! STAY SAFE OKAY 

Delete

GWash: Listen son, I know things have been tough, but you must come to work on Monday, you are a huge part of this company and a huge reason it runs smoothly. See you Monday. 

Sighs, and then deletes. 

There were many more unread messages but he just didn’t care.   
Exasperated he threw the phone back on the bed. 

He didn’t understand why his friends even bothered with him anymore. He was an awful human being and he was always a burden for them. 

So to make their lives easier he just ignored them completely.   
Maybe he should do the same for Jefferson. The man had already done so much good for him and all Hamilton had done was cry and mope around. 

He hadn’t realized he was crying till he felt a drop on his arm.   
To make things even worse he had to go back to work in 2 days and face everyone. It was no secret he had been abusing alcohol the past few weeks, so he expected a lot of talk and questioning looks when he returned.

There was a knock at the door and Hamilton glanced up. 

If Thomas was shocked at Hamilton’s tears he didn’t show it thankfully. 

“You ready to go?” He asked. 

Hamilton furiously wiped away at his tears and stood up. 

“Yeah let’s go”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
When Jefferson and Hamilton pulled into Hamilton’s house complex, Alexander could feel himself become increasingly more anxious. 

The drive was awkward enough, Jefferson would ask questions to make polite small talk and Alexander would quip back in small, short responses. 

Alexander lived just out of New York City, in Weehawken, New Jersey because Eliza insisted she wanted to live in a house, not an apartment. He also rented a small apartment in the city in case he had to stay in the city for work related reasons. 

Jefferson pulled the key out of ignition.   
“Alright, here we are” 

Hamilton just sat and stared ahead. 

Jefferson sighed as he got out of the car and just walked to the entrance of the average sized house. He knew Hamilton a hefty amount of money, but it made sense that Hamilton would buy a cozy, humble home. He wasn’t known to show off his wealth, only his wit. 

He stood there as he impatiently waited in the cold for Hamilton to get out of the car and let him inside. 

Alexander didn’t want to go in. He doesn’t remember how much of a disarray his house is in, but he knows it is nowhere near tidy. He sighed and got out of the car to join Jefferson and open his house door. 

He fumbled with his keys until he finally got it to work and the door swung open.   
“Ha, well, here we are” Alexander deadpanned. 

Thomas was expecting a mess of course, but this much of a mess? No, no not really.   
From the moment he stepped in he could see the damage. 

There were beer bottles littered everywhere.   
Junk food wrappers and bags were scattered about.   
He saw broken glass and old photographs covering the floor and couches. 

Jefferson walked past Alexander and further into the living room.   
Glancing around, a picture frame caught his eye. 

It once had a glass frame but it was now shattered, he could see dried blood around the edges. The picture seemed to be of Hamilton’s son, Philip, with Eliza holding him, staring down at her child like he was the most precious and fragile thing in the world. 

The blood stained glass had alarmed him though.   
He marched back to Hamilton through the clutter and grabbed his hand and examined his knuckles. 

“Uh, Jefferson what are you doing?” 

“You fucking punched the shit out of your knuckles, Hamilton” 

“Yeah so what I deserved it.” 

Thomas paused and glanced up at Alexander. Quickly he pushed up Hamilton’s sleeves and glared at the skin searching if Hamilton had abused himself further. 

“The fuck? You think I cut or some shit? You saw me shirtless yesterday dumb ass, no cuts.”   
He shoved Jefferson’s grip off himself and stood slightly defensive. 

“Take off your pants.” 

Alexander tensed and his face deepened in shades of red. 

“Fuck off” 

“Hamilton take off your fucking pants” 

Alexander began to shake.   
How had he figured him out so quickly?   
There was no way he was taking off his pants for Thomas Jefferson to see just how worthless he was. 

“Alright, if you don’t take them off I will.” Thomas remarked. 

“Why should I take them off? There’s nothing there. You tryna blow me Jefferson?” Hamilton tried to play it off like he had no idea what Jefferson was talking about although he knew he had already given himself away. 

“Alexander.”   
Alex was still wearing Thomas’s baggy sweatpants so when Thomas reached to pull his pants down it took virtually no effort. 

Hamilton gaped at Thomas in embarrassment and shame. He screwed his eyes shut and refused to open and see Thomas’s reaction. 

Thomas stared at Hamilton’s legs. Yes, he was wearing boxers, but Jefferson wasn’t concerned about that. His eyes roamed Hamilton’s thighs when he saw them. 

Some faded, some freshly made.   
They were horizontal thin lines made from self-hate. 

Jefferson knew that there was a possibility Hamilton would cut his thighs because Jefferson did the same in high school when he felt a great loathing towards himself. He never showed this though, and he didn’t want anyone to find out so he cut on his thighs. James Madison, his best friend, had helped him through it though and he was forever grateful for him. 

He reached up and rubbed his finger against the cuts. 

Hamilton shuddered under his touch.   
He probably thinks I’m disgusting.   
Why the fuck am I pantsless in my own house, letting Thomas Jefferson see the most vulnerable parts of me.   
Why  
Why  
Why  
Why  
Then Alexander’s eyes flew open when he felt a pair of lips kiss his thigh.   
He glanced down and saw Thomas kissing his scars. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” He stuttered 

Thomas paused and stared up at Alexander from where he was. 

“Well my mom used to kiss my ‘boo-boos’ away so I’m just doing what she taught me” He resumed his kissing. 

“Thomas stop it.” 

“Alexander, as much as I hate to admit, you are a very important and meaningful person. You mean a lot to others. You are important ok? You need to start to believe in yourself and all that you have accomplished. Please, try to not hurt yourself anymore. You’ve got friends. You have me. Please don’t take things out on yourself. You’re only human, you are bound to make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean you have to punish yourself physically and mentally for it.” 

Alexander stepped away from Thomas and pulled up his pants. 

“Listen, I don’t need your lecture about how I’m ‘important’ and ‘matter’ to other people. Sooner or later you’re going to get sick of me, I’m going to go back to work, and we are going to be enemies all over again. Please, save the pity for someone who actually cares.”  
Hamilton replied coldly. “I don’t know why you’re even trying to help me. You think I don’t know how to clean up my damn house?!”   
Hamilton didn’t know why he was getting so angry so quickly. Maybe it was because Thomas found yet another weak point in him? Maybe it was because Thomas seemed like he was trying to care? Maybe because Alexander’s heart was filled with warmth when Thomas kissed away his markings of pain and told him he mattered. He didn’t want Jefferson to care about him and waste his time on him, he would only end up alone again. Besides, the fact still stands, once he goes back to work, things will be the exact same. Maybe it’s okay for now, but he knows that everything will go back to normal and it’ll be like none of this ever happened; except now Jefferson walks away with everything he needs to destroy Hamilton in every debate ever. There was no point in pretending to be friends. He didn’t want to become more in debt and attached to Jefferson than he already was. He knew it would only end with sadness and unrequited feelings. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Thomas, but he knew he liked him, and that meant that he was going to get hurt. 

“Please stop pretending you care. I feel like we had this conversation before? The point still stands Jefferson. Thank you for all that you’ve done but we don’t know each other. Okay? We literally just fight at work all the time. Never have we been kind to one another, so what? What? Now that I’m down and defeated you feel bad and can’t kick a dog while it’s down so you want to get me back on my feet so you can hurt me and not feel guilty? No one even knew I cut, till you pulled my fucking pants down! I know I’m pathetic for a grown man, your pitying looks say it all. I don’t want or need your pity, Jefferson. All I really need is for you to get out of my house. I know that we said that I can get myself back on my feet and shit, and you’re right. I can. But, part of that means that you and I are enemies. Meaning, you don’t have to help or pretend to like me anymore. You can kindly exit my property, and don’t worry I’ll be at work on Monday so you can quit covering my sorry ass. Also, please don’t call me Alexander.” 

Alexander glared at Thomas as he slowly rose to his feet. He could see Thomas’s face transform to blankness and how his lips drew into a thin line. He just nodded and stepped over the trash and mess of the house and walked towards the door. 

“See you at work Hamilton.” And Thomas slipped out the door and slammed it behind him. 

Alexander stared at where Thomas had just left.   
He slowly sank to the ground and began to sob again. 

This was for the best, he reminded himself.  
He was doing Thomas a favor by giving him a chance to leave Alexander.   
A part of him hated himself for yelling at Thomas like that, yet that’s also why he made him leave, because he hated himself. 

So there he sat, on the wooden floor of his littered home filled with memories of what his life once was and he cried himself till he eventually fell asleep, oddly wishing he was in Thomas’s arms once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading if you did. 
> 
> btw I never expected anyone to comment so like when I read them they literally were the nicest things ever that literally made my heart so happy! you guys are unbelievably kind <3

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to apologize to Lin Manuel Miranda  
> that is all


End file.
